ShizuruNatsuki Drabble Cycle
by gniwyerg
Summary: An experimental collection of drabbles attempting to bring Shizuru and Natsuki together in the aftermath of the HiME Festival. Currently 50 drabbles. Not quite ShizNat. Yet.


Disclaimer: Mai HiME and its characters are the property of Sunrise and a bunch of other people I don't know. I'm just borrowing them for a little bit.

The following drabbles take place in the aftermath of the HiME Festival and should all be one hundred words each, discounting their number title. They do vaguely fit into some timeline and some draw from others, but many stand alone. However, I recommend reading them in order. Without further ado:

**Shizuru-Natsuki Drabble Cycle**

1

After the HiME Festival, Natsuki was almost relieved when Shizuru started to playfully hug and tease her. She didn't understand why at first. After all, it made her uneasy that Shizuru touched her so openly or that Shizuru liked to embarrass her so much in public without feeling any shame herself.

Then it dawned on Natsuki when she happened to catch a glimpse of Shizuru's face during a lull in a conversation: the saddest eyes coupled with the barest frown. Being playful meant they didn't have to be serious. It meant that they could keep pretending that everything was okay.

2

Shizuru hugged Natsuki from behind for several reasons. First, it was always fun to sneak up on the usually stalwart girl whose nonchalance just begged to be frazzled. Secondly, Natsuki never failed to yelp and scowl in her cute little way. Thirdly, it was an excuse to touch her, to hold her, to be close to her under the guise of being mischievous, a state of being Shizuru needed no excuses for.

But mostly because she didn't want Natsuki to see the longing in her face or the way her lips strained to smile. Because it was easier this way.

3

When Natsuki learned that Shizuru decided to attend Fuuka University, she had mixed emotions. There was the dread she was beginning to associate with Shizuru's surprise attacks of hugs and teasing. There was also the relief in knowing that Shizuru wouldn't be that far away, that things wouldn't be that different, although now she didn't have a vendetta and now she knew Shizuru's feelings and all these other little now's that left Natsuki unsure and confused.

And that was the problem. She didn't know how she felt or should feel, only that concerning Shizuru, it was impossible not to feel.

4

Shizuru often told herself that Natsuki didn't feel the same way she did—Natsuki had said so herself. But that didn't mean that Shizuru could reach inside and flip a switch in her heart that would extinguish her love for her friend. It didn't mean that she didn't think about that kiss and wonder what it would be like to steal another taste of that forbidden fruit.

It didn't mean that she didn't have dreams that woke her with their intensity and left her gasping and whispering "Natsuki" as if it were the most beautifully painful sound in the world.

5

College's first challenge was the absence of uniforms. Not until she stopped did Shizuru realize that she had become oddly attached to the ritual of putting hers on, of buttoning up her shirt, sliding on her skirt, slipping into her jacket, and smartly knotting her necktie—her closet of blouses and skirt, jackets and sensible boots never quite compared to this old routine. Still one day Natsuki looked at her and asked, "Don't you have a pair of jeans?"

Shizuru actually had many pairs of jeans, but it was worth the shopping trip with Natsuki not to mention that fact.

6

Natsuki never really told Mai everything that happened between her and Shizuru, although she often suspected that Mai deduced everything herself (when she wasn't occupied with Tate or her part-time jobs). But there were a few times Natsuki almost did, a few times when she started a conversation with "Oi, Mai…" and trailed off into mumbling uncertainty, a few times she wanted to declare, "Shizuru? Yeah, she loves me and I don't know how I feel about that," a few times she wanted to ask anyone, How do I know…?

How do I know if I've started liking her back?

7

Shizuru was a little jealous of Mai-san, though she never would have told anyone, least of all Natsuki. It wasn't because her presence stole Shizuru's privilege of being Natsuki's only real friend. (Maybe just a little.) Rather, it was the little things she envied: the fact that Mai could see Natsuki everyday, that Mai had so easily insinuated herself into Natsuki's life, that Mai had her own way of peeling back Natsuki's layers, that Mai could touch Natsuki or tease her or be close to her without Natsuki ever wondering if there was an ulterior motive.

That Natsuki trusted her.

8

Natsuki bought a new bike as soon as she could. When she had tests to cram for and homework to procrastinate, she took long, meandering drives along winding, endless roads, curving recklessly around corners and listening only to the beat of her heart and the thrum of the engine deep in her bones.

She knew she was going to, but waited until after they had settled into their school routines to ask Shizuru to go with her. Shizuru had smiled, wrapped her arms snugly around her waist, and pressed warmly against her back. Time flowed backwards, but they raced onwards.

9

Shizuru was used to being admired by women both older and younger but she quickly discovered that college wasn't high school. For the most part, it wasn't her classmates that concerned her—most of them, after all, were trying to adjust as much as she was, though some viewed her with a little awe precisely because she seemed entirely untroubled—but every now and again, Shizuru would meet the eye of a passing sempai, appraising and knowing, and would actually look away. Feeling naked. Feeling exposed. And not understanding how.

But also strangely hopeful. Left thinking that anything was possible.

10

Sometimes Natsuki felt like revealing all the secrets she never told Shizuru, even though a part of her suspected that Shizuru knew more about her than she ever let on. She would tell her about her mother. About that night. About why rain depressed her or why riding in the backseat of cars could make her uneasy. About the sound tires make on a wet road when they slide out of control. About what it feels like to plummet off a cliff and wake up in a hospital bed. About revenge. About loneliness. About the preciousness of friends. About her.

11

There were many times when Natsuki wanted to ask Shizuru why she had done the things she did and if she had meant everything she said, and there were many times Shizuru wanted to tell Natsuki about all the dark places in her heart crowded with uncertainties and pulsing with fear, about the hours she spent thinking and asking herself the same questions over and over.

But every moment felt too soon and too raw and the words too thick and too awkward so that sometimes the only thing either could do was reach out and hold the other's hand.

12

Shizuru re-experienced exactly what it felt like to betray Natsuki: she kissed another woman. It happened not quite by accident and had occurred completely by the other's design, surprising her so much that she couldn't even remember the sensation of it afterwards. There had been a pause, a silence, Shizuru had looked up—and stopped breathing when the lips brushed across hers. Sure, sly and teasing. And not Natsuki. Then her sempai had pulled back, looked into her eyes for a long silent moment and saw something that made her say, "I hope she's worth it."

She was. She was.

13

Every time Shizuru glimpsed the photograph of Natsuki's family, she was struck by two things: the resemblance Natsuki had to her mother and the happy innocence of the child in the picture, whose smile was wide and bright beneath guilelessly clear eyes. It was undoubtedly at once both the Natsuki she knew and the Natsuki she would never know, a fanciful apparition that existed only in what ifs. Yet what if fate had been kinder to Natsuki and what if her mother had lived? Would she have been very different? Would she still have captured Shizuru's heart?

Doubtlessly, unquestionably, yes.

14

Natsuki occasionally dreamt that she didn't win (had she won?) her battle (had it been a battle?) against Shizuru (had she really been set "against" Shizuru?). In these dreams, Shizuru's eyes were cold and distant and her words reached Natsuki's ears as if from a far away place. She said "love" but it never sounded like "love" and it wrapped itself around Natsuki like chains, incapacitating her to suffer the mercies of the woman who only looked like Shizuru, whose lips left blisters on her skin and whose hands made her clothes evaporate like smoke. Here, Natsuki would wake, trembling.

15

One morning, Shizuru woke up and realized she didn't have to worry about Natsuki anymore. There were no more prolonged absences, dangerous escapades, crimes, Orphan fighting, or a vendetta that Shizuru sometimes feared masked a determination that would lead to fatalism. No, Natsuki's worries had changed and with them, Shizuru's. Or maybe it was the realization she no longer played a special role, the secret guardian, leaving her feeling lost.

Yet parts of life took shape without Natsuki, spaces and places remote from her. They made Shizuru happy, but not so much as the hope of one day sharing them.

16

School tried to pull Natsuki in. With tests and classes, gossip and rumors, and the occasional lunch on the lawn with Mai and Mikoto with the sun warming their faces and their voices washing over her in playful conversation. But sometimes she felt like an actor thrown into Act II, where every gesture felt awkward and graceless and every line ad-libbed in quiet desperation. Then she wanted to run away, just ride off during break, but she didn't, meandering far from where she parked her bike to that little secluded garden, where every flower in bloom reminded her of Shizuru.

17

Shizuru made a friend. Or her sempai made a friend of her. How it happened she was never sure, only that once her sempai realized she wasn't available, she immediately became much less intimidating. Maybe it was that Shizuru had been attracted to her, to her confidence and her ease, to the way she was never apologetic, to the way she never seemed to mind. And it was strange to reach out, almost blindly, blindly hopeless, defying a past surrounded by people made distant by admiration and disinterest, and when she saw her sempai understood, it was like a vindication.

18

Natsuki was actually less a stranger to Fuuka Academy than people thought. She knew the names and faces of most of the students, could even recite random facts about some of them, and had a rather intimate understanding of the school's inner workings. Yet even in the aftermath of the Festival, armed with a resolve to be a better (regular) student, she found it painful to interact with most of her peers, mindful of the awkward pauses and averted eyes of even simple greetings. Her coolness intimidated them; their lack of effort disinterested her. Yet few possessed natures like Shizuru's.

19

As time passed, they each became busier so that they saw less each of each other less often. Five or four times a week became twice a week became Saturday night dinners and lazy Sundays marked with outings or mutually lounging at Natsuki's apartment or Shizuru's dorm. Over dinner, they recounted their weeks, so that Shizuru learned about the time Natsuki babysat Mikoto so Mai and Tate could be alone and Natsuki laughed at the incompetence of this professor or jokes from that one.

In these moments, their increasingly separate lives came together, reforming old ties and making new ones.

20

More frequently over dinner, Natsuki began to hear about Shizuru's sempai. At first, it was just a name vaguely connected to Shizuru's stories, but as it came up more often, Natsuki started taking note, until one day she asked, "So, how did you and your sempai meet?"

And for a moment Shizuru almost looked startled, but then she laughed and said, "Natsuki, are you jealous?"

And Natsuki didn't blush and Natsuki didn't defensively exclaim, "No, I'm not! Why would I be!" and she definitely didn't wonder if she'd really seen what she saw.

Because she wasn't jealous. Not at all.

21

"Is she straight?"

"…She told me she doesn't feel the same way I do."

"And you're still friends?"

Shizuru hesitated only a second before replying, "Yes," but her sempai gave her a look that Shizuru had to return with a cool smile.

"And you still see each other? Often?"

"Not every day."

Her sempai didn't exactly frown.

"My advice: let her go."

To her horror, Shizuru found nothing to say. Even if she wanted to, she didn't know if she could, and even she could, she didn't know if her sempai was right—and Shizuru didn't want her to be.

22

Aoi and Chie didn't know what to think of Kuga Natsuki and Natsuki didn't know how to act around them. Their curiosity was clear—as it so often shone in the eyes of her classmates these days as her absences dwindle and her presence loomed—but they, Chie mostly, only asked roundabout questions, their cautious Kuga-san's almost irritating. They were nice enough though, and Mai hopeful enough, that Natsuki sometimes ate lunch with them, listened to their conversations, and even occasionally joined in. Sometimes, though, all she wanted was someone to spend a quiet lunch with, maybe even drinking tea.

23

A glance around the locker room, a sudden impulse to take a second look, a peek out of the corner of her eye—it all began with a little curiosity. It wasn't like she hadn't seen it all before, but that she was looking at everyone in a new light. Was he "cute"? Was she "pretty?" Natsuki had never really assessed people like that. Sometimes she blushed when she realized what she was thinking; sometimes she blushed because she felt a little jealous. But always she wondered:

What had Shizuru seen in her? What did she see that she wanted?

24

Shizuru never tired of looking at Natsuki. Years of watching, touching, studying, and daydreaming about her had given Shizuru an amazing intimacy with her body. Few people knew that Natsuki had the tiniest of beauty marks hidden behind her left ear or that her skin bore the faint and diminished scars of her fateful accident. Few knew how painfully honest that face could be or how her pride masked vulnerability. Yet only Shizuru's eyes could peel away Natsuki's clothes, alight at the thought of what lingerie lurked beneath—in the same dreams which Shizuru gently kissed all those hurts away.

25

Mai accomplished the impossible and taught Natsuki how to cook. It was a long, trying ordeal, with lessons even about cracking eggs, that almost wrung tears of joy from Mai when Natsuki first produced an edible omelet. What Mai didn't know and what Natsuki didn't tell her when she blushingly mumbled a request for Mai's help, was that Natsuki had nearly sent herself and Shizuru to the hospital with an impromptu Saturday night dinner. With one bite.

Shizuru had teasingly laughed then, but one successful retry later, could only gaze at Natsuki with not only surprise, but pride and gratitude.

26

Shizuru touched her so frequently that Natsuki came to expect the hugs from behind, a teasing hand on her arm, even the occasional straightening of her collar. She absorbed Shizuru's smiles, her laughter, her moments of amusement hidden behind a hand, her sly comments and cheeky jokes. But sometimes Natsuki wondered what it would be like to touch her, to just lean against her one day while they were sitting side by side or come up behind her and place a hand on her shoulder for no reason.

These thoughts scared her though. She wasn't ready to face Shizuru's surprise.

27

They once agreed to spar when Shizuru asked Natsuki how she practiced her martial arts (the answer: her apartment being too small, in parks or on the beach when she had the time). When Shizuru later reminded her, Natsuki decided they shouldn't—after all, Shizuru used weapons and Natsuki preferred fighting barehanded. Of course, Natsuki was being silly and Shizuru proved it by casually tripping and then pinning her to the ground—only to suddenly find herself on the ground with Natsuki on top of her.

Everything stopped.

Then Natsuki, without a word, stood up.

They didn't mention sparring again.

28

P.E. was Natsuki's favorite class (followed by history—not because she liked history, but because memorizing names and dates was easy). Lame, maybe, but she'd always reveled in pushing her body, in its fine-tuned response, in that breathless moment where everything felt light and effortless.

Still, it surprised her when the track and field coach tried to recruit her.

Mai said, "Why not?" Shizuru looked thoughtful, then mischievous, then slyly mentioned Natsuki and cute uniforms.

Why not?

So Natsuki joined and practiced stubbornly among startled stares, racing towards that moment she saw Shizuru in the stands—when everything felt right.

29

Watching Natsuki run sent chills down Shizuru's spine, the same chills that she sometimes got watching Natsuki ride away on her bike—the impression of her becoming like the wind—untouchable, ungraspable—and getting further and further away. Yet it was magical, too, how in forgetting herself all the armor of her self-consciousness fell away, leaving only the breathtaking vibrancy of her beauty. Then Shizuru would wonder why Natsuki clung to ice, why ice had been her element when she was fire and wind, passion and whimsy.

But ice burned, too, Shizuru remembered, when pressed too long against the skin.

30

It was only after the first meet or two that her teammates started to approach Natsuki. Her simply being there confused most of them, which was only compounded by her surprising speed and quiet competitiveness. But when they complimented her, she actually blushed, and when they spoke to her, she knew their names, and during practice, she ran with them seriously. It wasn't long before the first years started admiring their sempai, only a little longer for the second years to start speaking to her outside of practice, and no time to figure out she was ridiculously easy to tease.

31

The less they saw of each, the more each discovered she had to say to the other: about her day, about an upcoming test, about something funny someone said, about hearing something that made her think of the other, about the dress she saw in the window that would look good on the other and the perfect matching set of lingerie. Neither later remembered how the nightly calls began, but their voices began to acquire almost their own identities: the lilts, pauses, snorts and snickers, giggles and sighs—even the long silences where they could almost hear each other breathing.

32

Canceled classes or a sudden impulse to take the day off allowed Shizuru to now and again surprise Natsuki during her lunch break. The first time she visited, she had gone straight to the office and had asked them, cheekily, to summon Natsuki to the student council room. Five minutes later, Natsuki had barged in looking defiant enough to be guilty of something—only to freeze in the doorway, her lips parted in shock.

Shizuru wished she had a camera.

Natsuki had immediately turned blushingly, grumblingly irritated, but when she thought Shizuru wouldn't notice, she smiled.

(And Shizuru still noticed.)

33

To her horror, Natsuki learned that she had acquired a refined taste for tea. The revelation came during a study session at Mai's. They were taking a break, drinking tea, when it suddenly occurred to her that there was good tea, there was bad tea, and there was everything else in between—and the tea she was drinking was that something else in between. She had very quietly put her cup down, stared at it, and made a mental note.

When Natsuki later asked Shizuru about the secret to good tea, Shizuru paused, laughed, and then very solemnly said, "Love."

34

Natsuki once had a conversation with Yukino that she would never forget, although it probably lasted no more than ten minutes. Maybe it was because they barely saw or spoke to each other, but something made Natsuki say, "About that time… about Shizuru… I'm sorry."

But Yukino only said, "Kuga-san, did you forgive her?"

"Me? I… yeah."

"Then… it's alright. If you can forgive her. …I think… I think we all need a little forgiveness." Then Yukino smiled, hesitantly, and Natsuki smiled back.

"Yeah."

But forgiving each other didn't let them forget—didn't stop the desire to ask, Why, Shizuru?

35

Love—or maybe like—whichever, it didn't matter—slipped off her tongue with such deceptive ease. Love—or maybe like—said so often in the hope that it would lose its power, release its painful, twisting hold on her heart—in the hope that it would become as light as the way she said it, so light it would fly away, leaving her behind or taking her with it. But what was love? Was it her laughter, her smile? Or her absence, the longing at night?

They said, "Would you kill for love?"

Yes, Shizuru would reply. I already have.

36

From time to time, Shizuru received letters from Reito.

How are you? How are your classes? What are you studying now? What are your plans?

His letters were never quite formal and never quite familiar and they always asked, tucked somewhere among all the other questions, How is Kuga-san?

Shizuru would write back:

I am fine and Natsuki is well. From what she tells me, Mai-san is also well.

Her replies were never quite cool and never quite warm, and there always seemed to be a smirk lurking between the lines.

If their words stung, it was because they understood.

37

"Is that a love letter?" Mai said over her shoulder.

Natsuki immediately whipped around and hid the envelope behind her back. "W-what are you talking about?"

"Heeeeeeeh, Natsuki has an admirer."

"S-shut up! Who cares about stuff like this?"

"You aren't going to read it?"

"Che, I have no—"

"—time for relationships?" Mai finished with a mischievous smile. "But I think you do."

"Che, whatever."

But what she had been going to say was "I have no interest in a relationship"—but it was a good thing she hadn't. Who knows what Mai would have said to that?

38

"So, Mai, have you and Tate…?" Chie wagged her eyebrows suggestively.

Natsuki, who had been half-listening, was suddenly acutely aware of the conversation around her. Mai made unintelligible sounds of bewilderment and blushed such a bright red that Aoi and Chie ooh'ed and ahh'ed in excited anticipation.

"Chie, what are you saying!"

"Don't be shy, Mai. Sa! Have you and Ta—"

Mai slapped her hands over Chie's mouth, eyes darting around the cafeteria and redder than an apple. "Chie! How could you—NO! The answer is no."

Unnoticed, Natsuki released the breath she didn't realize she had been holding.

39

It was summer, it was unbearably hot, and Natsuki was trying to put her hair up to alleviate the heat.

"Maybe I should just cut my hair short," she grumped at Shizuru, who was in the kitchen preparing cool drinks. Natsuki had thought about cutting her hair before, especially after she'd started running, but hadn't actually seriously considered it. It'd be a change, but maybe a change would be nice…

Not hearing Shizuru's reply, Natsuki glanced into the kitchen.

Shizuru was staring at her, mouth slightly agape, with such a look of horror that Natsuki didn't dare suggest it again.

40

Watching Natsuki sleep usually brought Shizuru a sense of peace. Natsuki slept like a rock and almost anywhere—propped up by a hand, on an open textbook-cum-pillow, or curled up on the couch. When she slept, the lines of consternation and bravado disappeared from her face, so constantly present when Natsuki was awake that it was only in their absence that Shizuru realized the depths of Natsuki's barriers. She became vulnerable only in sleep and sometimes, seeing this, Shizuru wanted more than ever to touch her, to hold her, to protect her. And Shizuru would grow afraid. Afraid of herself.

41

At that time, everything felt very clear and distinct, all the lines very sharp and every color bright and bleeding into her memories. Her mind, her thoughts had been amazingly, painfully focused and in that moment, everything had seemed obvious to her.

_Of course_, Natsuki would have eventually found out. _Of course_, Natsuki couldn't accept her now. _Of course_, she had to protect Natsuki. _Of course_, this was the only way.

After that, her memories made little sense. There are instructions, fire and screams, and conversations with Natsuki from which Shizuru couldn't, for the life of her, recall a word.

42

Natsuki visited the cliff—considerably shortened now—at least once a week. There, she would tell her mother many things, speaking in her heart. Sometimes she asked the questions she would never have the answers to, like "Why did you have to die?" or "Why did you sell me away?" Most of the time she would tell her mother about how she was moving on, about old and new friends, about how everything felt new and different—but that sometimes she wished that things hadn't changed, that she was still fighting, that everything was as clear-cut and simple as before.

43

Even though she didn't get many, Natsuki got used to receiving love letters—hidden in her locker, slipped into her book bag, placed inside her desk, and once even personally handed to her by a flustered kouhai who stopped her in the hall. She would turn them around in her hands, tracing the imprint of her name on the front, but couldn't actually bring herself to read them. So she'd stuff them in her schoolbag, forget about them, and end up strewing them across her apartment.

So naturally, Shizuru noticed them. And had to read them. Out loud. While smirking.

44

Being with Shizuru had a way of making Natsuki feel as if time were moving slower. Maybe it was the way Shizuru moved, confidently and purposefully, yet with a touch of grace that imbued the simplest things, like drinking tea, with elegance. Maybe it was her expressions, playful and amused, but also sometimes whimsical, as if she were sometimes very far away from Natsuki. Or maybe it was the lapsed silences between them, which could as much relax Natsuki as put her on edge.

It was only when they said their goodbyes that their time together suddenly felt so short.

45

Shizuru never asked but Natsuki always offered to give Shizuru a lift if she could. At first it had been a little awkward because aside from the times they had hung out, Natsuki hadn't had the time to go out of her way for Shizuru, having been so busy running around the city gathering information about the First District. But Shizuru never refused when Natsuki insisted and Natsuki always insisted. She wouldn't have admitted it, but it was a little guilty pleasure of Natsuki's to feel that she was helpful to Shizuru, that she had a way to give back.

46

It was a sadomasochistic experience for Shizuru to read Natsuki's love letters. On the one hand, Natsuki's reaction was priceless: it would take her a moment to realize what Shizuru was reading to her, then she would turn bright red, then blushingly indignant, then desperate enough to grapple with a laughing Shizuru until she tore the letter out of her hand.

On the other hand, there was the sudden realization that there were other people looking at Natsuki, other people who thought of her in the ways that Shizuru did, other people who might have a better chance than she.

47

There were times, Natsuki had to admit, when being with Shizuru was too much. Times when Shizuru's teasing rubbed her the wrong way. Times when Natsuki didn't want to be assaulted with hugs and cheek nuzzles. Times when Natsuki wanted to wipe Shizuru's knowing smile off her face. Times when Natsuki wanted to scream in frustration at how easily Shizuru could read her. Times when Natsuki didn't want to be aware of the little doubts nagging at the back of her mind. Times when Natsuki wanted to know the thoughts and feelings behind Shizuru's actions. Times when she almost acted.

48

For her eighteenth birthday, Shizuru gave Natsuki a digital camera. Natsuki had been walking Shizuru back to her dorm, having escaped her own surprise party courtesy of Mai in cahoots with the track team, when Shizuru suddenly turned to her and placed a small, wrapped box in her hand. Blushing, Natsuki opened it at Shizuru's insistence, only to hesitate when she saw what it was.

"To capture all these new memories," Shizuru explained and, gently taking the camera from her, leaned in close, stretched her arm out, and snapped a picture of them.

Then, whispering, "So that you won't forget."

49

When they went shopping or walked together around the city or on the beach, Shizuru often wanted to hold Natsuki's hand or cling to Natsuki's arm. But there was something about the way Natsuki walked, the way her shoulders seemed set for confrontation, the way she could isolate herself through the force of her attitude, the way that Natsuki sometimes had trouble meeting her eye, that made Shizuru stop.

But then they would climb onto Natsuki's motorcycle and Natsuki would say, "Hang on tight," and suddenly, maybe because she had permission, Shizuru could savor holding Natsuki, without care or guilt.

50

Shizuru once decided that Natsuki's lap would make a great pillow. They had been sitting side by side on Natsuki's couch, reading, when Shizuru suddenly closed her book, curled up on her side, and, without a word, rested her head on Natsuki's lap. Maybe they both stopped breathing, maybe time stopped, but for a moment there was complete silence. Shizuru lay, still, waiting… waiting…

Then, a sensation, a feather light touch on her head, now sweeping along the length of her hair, now resting on her shoulder.

Warm.

Shizuru could only close her eyes, maybe to contain tears, maybe joy.

* * *

I hope you enjoyed these. Any comments are welcome and appreciated. Maybe now is the time to say that these drabbles are an experiment; I can't say that the story I'm telling through them will ever be finished (because it's me) or that by the end Shizuru and Natsuki will be together. I'd like to see them get there, but we'll see if I can manage it in a way that can be believed. I can't even say if I'll continue with the drabble format; time and time again I've asked myself why I'm writing it this way. 

These drabbles were originally posted on my livejournal account (user "greywing") in batches of four or more depending on how productive I was. My own comments on the drabbles appear there and I'd like to thank everyone over there who has contributed their thoughts and comments; you can thank them for my getting this far. Regular updates will not be appearing here but on my LJ. I will probably only update on in large batches.

So to end, thank you for reading.

-greywing (gniwyerg)

**EDIT 9/24/06: **greywingDOTlivejournalDOTcom/149886DOThtml for a continuation of the drabbles (replace "DOT" with a period). Post includes notes and an apology.


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